


August 10th

by doctor__idiot



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Wincest Writing Challenge, mention of underage, smores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: “Did you know,” Sam pipes up from where he is sitting cross-legged in the grass, “that August 10th is National S’mores Day?”





	August 10th

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wincest Writing Challenge. The prompt was Summer + S'mores.

“Did you know,” Sam pipes up from where he is sitting cross-legged in the grass, “that August 10th is National S’mores Day?”

Dean snorts. “Of course you’d know that.”

Sam shrugs, looks up at the night sky. He’s holding his marshmallow too close to the fire but Dean doesn’t say anything, just watches him. Makes sure Sam doesn’t catch him watching.

Sam is fourteen and still so young, all gangly limbs and smooth baby skin, too long hair and bright eyes. He’s too young to spark something inside of Dean whenever he looks at him and yet–

“Hey, earth to Dean,” Sam says suddenly and Dean blinks, “You’re burning your marshmallow, idiot.”

Belatedly, Dean realizes his little brother is right. He pulls back the stick and regards the black-crusted glob of goo with a frown. He wipes it off in the grass.

Says, “Hand me another one, you brat. And some of the crackers.”

Sam huffs but obliges. He stretches, rummages through the stuff they brought until he can get his hands on the pack of crackers and on the chocolate. He’s got his back to Dean, narrow shoulders and a waist that Dean could probably span with his hands if he tried, and Dean looks away, picks at some dandelions in the grass.

+

Sam drops down heavily to the ground next to him. “Hey, lazy.”

“Hey, bitchy,” Dean returns, reaching out, “Did you bring the beer?”

“What do you think?” Sam opens the six back of El Sol before handing one over to Dean.

Dean accepts the bottle and jabs his marshmallow stick into the ground so he can grab Sam’s biceps with his other hand. “Come here.”

Sam raises his eyebrows at him but follows the request, scooting up between Dean’s splayed legs and lies down, using Dean’s chest as a pillow. Dean’s hand lands in his hair and he can see Sam close his eyes briefly before he opens them again and turns them upward, enjoying the clarity of the night sky with its pinprick stars.

At thirty-four he’s still utterly beautiful, maybe more so than when he was fourteen and still way too tiny. He grew out of any hand-me-down’s when he turned eighteen and surpassed Dean in height and size. Their new dynamic took some getting used to, Dean so accustomed to having the upper hand during training and now Sam wasn’t only getting taller, he was also getting bigger and the first time he easily plucked Dean off his feet during sparring was a jarring moment for Dean.

Not because it bothered him, that would have been simple, but because it didn’t bother him all that much. Didn’t bother him at all, and now _that_ , that was anything but simple.

Dean runs the tips of his fingers over the curve of his brother’s broad shoulders, emphasizing the point in his head.

Sam flashes him a grin as if he knows what Dean is thinking. Probably does, the little psychic.

“Hey, you know what?”

Dean hums to show that he’s listening.

“It’s August 10th.”

The night around them is almost eerily quiet, only broken by little sounds like crickets and the occasional gush of wind rustling the grass and nearby bushes.

Dean retracts his marshmallow stick from the fire and squishes the white fluff between some crackers and chocolate. “So?”

Sam snorts, the vibrations of it radiating all the way through Dean’s ribcage. “You keep forgetting.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Dean grins, “It’s National S’mores Day.”


End file.
